Posted By Christina M on November 24, 2004

‘Tis that magic season, once again. You know, the season where you scramble to the store because you forgot you needed sugar to make cranberry sauce. The season where you notice how suddenly the weather seems to have gotten cold. The season where you transition into Advent. What? You mean you haven’t put up a tree yet, or bought a present for Great Aunt Matilda? B-b-but Dollar Tree has had its Christmas decorations for sale since mid October! Weren’t you even a little bit tempted to give Christmas-tree-shaped candy corn to the little hobgoblins on Halloween?

Yes, you might have guessed it: I find the rush toward Christmas festivity a bit unnerving. I’m torn, you see, because on one hand I know that Advent is a penitential season; yet on the other hand, if I don’t get into some sort of pre-Christmas spirit, I am too thoroughly depressed by December 25 to be in the right frame of mind to celebrate anything, let alone the birth of our Savior. So I give in to the decorations and at least some of the frivolity. But not in October!

The day after Thanksgiving marks the secular “official” transition into Christmas (Advent) season, though. And even though it’s a few days early for the beginning of Advent, that’s when I like to kick off the season myself. And though October may be too early to decorate the house, today is the perfect day to start cleaning it for the holidays. With that in mind, I joined FLYlady.

This season is important to my sense of tradition. I try to have a pretty tree and a few household decorations, but I try to balance it with more prayer, and songs about the Nativity. I especially like “O Come O Come Emmanuel” because it’s seasonally accurate. Yes, it’s still a penitential season. And at the moment I can’t think of anything more penitential for me to do than clean my house.

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Posted By Christina M on November 20, 2004

Today, most of the kids are off on a “field trip” with Grandpa. (God bless him for that!) My husband is working, and I just have my middle daughter and the baby home with me, both being relatively peaceful. So what do I do? I turn on the radio, thinking about how rarely anymore I get to listen to music, since I started homeschooling our oldest.

I went to a random site from St. Blogs, and learned that Gerard of A Catholic Blog for Lovers has died. May he rest in peace. I know he will be sorely missed by net Catholics around the world.

Then I went to another random site, and got what is perhaps a message.

I think I’ll go turn off the radio. Life passes too quickly to fill it with noise.

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Posted By Christina M on November 13, 2004

This week I found several Rod Stewart tapes in the two-buck bin at the local Overpriced Book and Music Store. After reading about his company’s ethical confusion, it’s hard to feel sorry for the guy if he’s declining.

His lawyer thinks it’s unfair that he doesn’t get paid if he doesn’t do the job he’s being paid for. I think these folks ought to try working for a living, and discover how the Real World works.

If they appeal, and win, I’ve decided I’m going to become a singer. I’m not going on tour, either. Can I have two million dollars?

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Posted By Christina M on November 11, 2004

… do this.

This fellow is suing Liza Minelli, claiming that he had to have sex with her or be fired. Let’s assume for a moment that his claim is true. He had sex with her in order to keep a paycheck coming. Sex for money.

So M’Hammed is either a liar or a harlot.

But now he’s asking for a paycheck of $100,000,000.

I guess that makes him a high-priced call boy.

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Posted By Christina M on November 11, 2004

Everyone remembers someone who, at maybe 5 or 6 years old, could not handle losing. “No fair, he cheated!” was their cry, which really just meant “He won, and I don’t like that.” It’s sad when a so-called adult, a person who has been empowered with the skills of literacy, halts his maturity development at that stage.

There is also an element of the infant who thinks the world revolves around him. A four month old doesn’t think of Mom as that person who likes classical music, or Dad’s wife, or someone who gets her feelings hurt when people yell. No, to the infant, Mom is the person who brings me milk. That’s her job, that’s how she relates to me, and that’s who she is. Period. The infant is so sure of his needs and desires that it doesn’t occur to him that those desires do not rule and define the world.

And to Mr. Valenzuela, his desire for Kerry to have won the election defines what must be truth. If he wanted it, then it must have been the will of the entire nation; therefore, if Bush won, it was contrary to the will of the nation, and he must have cheated. Because obviously, what Manuel Valenzuela desires defines desires and needs of all reality.

It’s a pity for him that reality does not comply with his logic.

It’s a great relief, however, to me. With six kids, I have enough people to teach the value of good sportsmanship to.

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Posted By Christina M on October 28, 2004

I was beginning to wonder if it really would happen. At least, I wondered if this was the year. We’ve been talking about the diaconate since we got married, and in the past year our talk became more serious. We have a 7 month old baby, though, and a frequent shortage of funds, and teens going every which way. How could we really think this could be the time to commit ourselves to beginning such a daunting new course?

Maybe it isn’t that daunting to other couples, I don’t know. But there has never been a clergyman in my family, ever, as far as I know. Heck, until my kids’ generation, there weren’t even baby boys being born into the Catholic side of the family.

Things are progressing, though, and our family is growing in more ways than just size. My cousin started it, when she became our first nun. Then I went and became a Discalced Carmelite Secular. And now, my husband is beginning his (our) path to discernment about the permanent diaconate.

I like to think we make a good pair: I am a contemplative, and he’s an apologist. I’m a cradle Catholic and he’s a convert. (The official wording is that he’s joined full communion.) I, though mostly Dutch, relate to the bride’s Greek family in My Big Fat Greek Wedding where my husband relates more to the tiny but cultured family of the groom. We balance each other out. And where love and faith are concerned, we don’t so much “balance” each other as support each other and try to grow together. So I guess I do believe that if anyone has a good shot at this, my husband does. Heaven knows he has what it takes to be a good preacher.

So this week, we attended our first class. It’s a three year lay ministry class that’s recommended in our diocese for all lay ministers and a required prerequisite before entering the three year diaconate class. I’m eager to work through the reflection questions with my husband, and joyful that I believe they can really help us grow in our walk with Christ.

And I’m really excited that we’ve begun this journey.

Please pray for us as we work, pray, learn, and discern.

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Posted By Christina M on September 30, 2004

Back when my daughter was two years old and I was single parenting three kids, we went to Thanksgiving dinner at my sister’s house. Her family had set a delightful table, including gold-leaf decorated place cards. Each bore a name on the outside, and when unfolded displayed a sentence or two of what the writers appreciated about that person. My daughter’s made reference to her “cute bossiness.”

Now she’s nine, and some things haven’t changed much. The other day, she was talking about starting a (yet another) club. This one would be a homework helper club (read: “Let’s play school; I get to be the teacher.”) She was telling me how she’d already organized the club, and it’s rules. Never mind that it didn’t yet have any members — she’d tell them what to do after they joined. Trying to contain my chuckle, I asked the question she should have come to anticipate by now: “Is it just possible that you might be a little bit of a control freak?”

“Of course it isn’t,” she repled, full of confidence.

“And if someone doesn’t follow your rules, do they get punished?” I just couldn’t help pushing. It’s kind of amusing when she’s so unaware what she’s doing.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course not.” She paused. “I just make them sit on a chair in the corner for a while.”

Most of the family still finds it harmlessly amusing when our youngest girl tries to control everything. My husband says if she didn’t keep her finger on the button, the world would stop spinning.

Yes, harmless. What’s the big deal when a person without any real power pretends to be controlling the spinning of the earth?

Yet when that trait continues into adulthood, it can be a real problem — not only to the people who have to deal with a controlling personality, but to the controller herself. Because none of us really has the control that we think we ought.

Our oldest daughter currently thinks she should have total control of her life, without any rules, guidelines, or advice. Just the money and shelter and free meals, but none of the bothersome parts of living with parents. But who really has that level of control? Does she think that adulthood brings such authority? Everyone has to answer to someone else: my children answer to me, and I answer to my husband. He answers to his boss, who answers to corporate, and they answer to the public. Ultimately, we all answer to God, whether we acknowledge Him or not. We can all try to influence those above us, but none of us has either the authority or the power to make someone else do anything, and we certainly do not have the power to force God to change His will.

When we think we do, or worse, think we should, we risk a lot. We risk hurting or angering those around us who need to be allowed enough space to interact with God themselves. We risk harming our own fragile emotional state with feelings of failure and stress; and we risk our eternal souls when we fear letting God be God. Some of the most dangerous spiritualities out there draw people in by offering them the power to influence God’s domain by offering what belongs to God to other spirits.

When I got married after seven years of being divorced, my greatest relief was no longer feeling like I had to control everything by myself. One of the best parts of having a loving partner is having someone to share the responsibility with; and there is no more loving partner than God Himself.

Today let’s make a resolution, you and I. Let’s spend the day putting things in God’s hands, and relax. He knows our needs better than we do.

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Posted By Christina M on September 16, 2004

This morning as I opened the fridge to get out breakfast, I spotted a pot of broth there, and flashed back to a meal I enjoyed a number of years ago. I was at my sister’s house, and she’d made what she referred to as “Musgo Soup.” When I asked what that was, she explained: “Everything in the refrigerator must go.” In short, it was her way of using up ingredients before they could go bad.

I wasn’t much of a soup maker back then, because somehow it had seemed to me like a mysterious art. I didn’t even have a recipe. But then, neither did my sister. And that soup was memorably good. It was the sort of food that makes you feel disappointed when you run out of appetite.

It wasn’t long before I decided to try my own hand at Musgo Soup. It turned out that not only was it good, it was easy. Because nobody had a particular expectation about how it was supposed to turn out, nobody could tell me I’d done it wrong. Working without a recipe turned out to be a lot more fun than I’d expected.

Since then, I’ve learned to cook what’s available, and to adlib without a recipe, a lot. It’s saved us on grocery bills and added some variety to our dinners. Even more, I think there’s a lesson in it about life itself. We’ve all heard “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” Well, when life gives you leftovers, make Musgo Soup. When you approach food, and life, like every ingredient is a bowlful of potential it’s a lot easier to enjoy what you have, and to make the most of it, than if you lament instead that it isn’t prime rib. The key to getting the most out of life’s great kitchen isn’t to have all the best ingredients on hand, but to put your best into whatever you happen to have. Whatever it is you make, or do, treat it like it’s what you really love and be the best you can be at it.

Sometimes God’s vocations are loud and clear. “Francis, rebuild my Church.” But sometimes God doesn’t call so audibly. Sometimes we just happen into a vocation by wandering toward it, or even by being stuck with it. Even if we are not doing what we want to be doing, God is still calling us to give it our best. And sometimes, Musgo is the most delicious dish on the menu, if we but give it a chance.

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Posted By Christina M on September 1, 2004

Today I have a play date with someone I haven’t spent time with in a long time. Three months, to be specific. Myself.

It’s the first day of school, and though I love my children, I don’t love the chaos of summer vacation. It isn’t that I don’t enjoy having them around, but I don’t love the lack of structure, and how I can’t really establish new structure for our time, when it will all change in a matter of months anyway.

Tom Hanks’ character, in “You’ve Got Mail,” referred to his school age brother and aunt as “the American family.” Ok, it’s anything but typical, even in postmodern America; but it makes the sadly ironic point that the American family has indeed evolved into something other than the traditional nuclear family. Without getting into the Sesame Street “Anyone who loves each other is family” agenda, the reality is that we do live in a culture where many have divorced and remarried, even sometimes people of faith. Like myself and my husband. I’m not going to defend divorce as an institution, because my husband and I have both seen first hand the pain it causes children as well as their parents. But we live with the reality of exes, never the less.

And that’s what we dealt with all blessed summer. Daughter 1 had two visits to her mom this summer. Son 5 visited us from his mom’s twice. Son 2 and Daughters 3 and 4 visited their dad. And guess who had to arrange transportation for each visit, and schedule these visits in three different states around the obligatory my-mom-vacation and his-mom-vacation? You guessed it.

So, yes, it’s been a busy schedule, and unfortunately far too busy to establish much of a working routine. Especially for a mom who’s constantly exhausted from middle of the night nursing.

I wish I could have more time with the kids, even as I speak. But not time driving to or from other parents, and not time in front of computers and video games — time in the same room but not in the same world.

In the absence of real time together, I’ll settle for time alone. I’ve got a Free Cell date with myself, and I intend to keep it.

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Posted By Christina M on August 6, 2004

One of the catechists in the RCIA program at my old parish used to refer to the Catholic Church having “baptized” cultural and sometimes pagan practices by integrating them into Christian faith and assigning Christian meaning to them. Certainly, it seems more than coincidental that, for instance, the feast of St. Brigid falls at the same time as the Irish pagan celebration of the goddess Brigid. I’ve always liked that catechist’s turn of phrase.

Well, if we can “baptize” evergreens and make them Christmas trees, and even “baptize” solstice to make it Christmas itself, who am I to put down the Church of God in Zilla, Washington for baptizing a certain popular monster? I can’t help but picture God chuckling over it.

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